​To live without anxiety about imperfection, we must be able to rest in natural presence. We need to take shelter in something larger than our own fixed ideas of a flawed or faultless self, something that reminds us of our true nature again and again.

For some folks this comes in various forms meditation. For others it happens through the arts: music, poetry, painting, dance, etc. For some, it's born in the arms of unconditional love from a spiritual or earthly being. For me, it happened today on a hike at Foothill Park.

The Great Mother whispered the words of David Whyte's poem to me:

LostStand still. The trees ahead and the bushes beside you Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here, And you must treat it as a powerful stranger, Must ask permission to know it and be known. The forest breathes. Listen. It answers, I have made this place around you, If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.No two trees are the same to Raven. No two branches are the same to Wren. If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you, You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows Where you are. You must let it find you.

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​It's been a few months since I was last here. Despite the usual to do list today, I felt the intuitive call to hike at Foothill Park. Over the centuries, Mother Nature has witnessed my soul evolution from primordial soup to primate, from damaged goods to a divine flow of energy that is never in the exact same physical or emotional state twice.

Whether I am an insensitive physician or an eloquent poet, a compassionate mother or a selfish daughter, a wise teacher or an ignorant student, she has always loved me unconditionally, no matter who I thought I was at any given moment in time.

I have made this place around you, If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.What more can a woman ask for?

May we all rest periodically in natural presence. May we all find peace.​